


what exactly were your thot processes

by Deisderium



Series: food for thot [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: A Whole Ass Forest of Pine, A Whole History of Dumbassery, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Dragons, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Childhood Friends, Cross Cryptid Romance, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Pining, Roommates, There Were Two Beds But They Only Used One, Urban Fantasy, Vampire Bites, omg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-18
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:22:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23716648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deisderium/pseuds/Deisderium
Summary: The thing is, it sucks being fifteen and scrawny and looking like you might blow away in the stiff breeze, and having a best friend who is developing muscles, and whose cheekbones have recently achieved prominence through the round curve of baby fat on his face, and whose blue eyes sparkle when he looks at you, either with laughter or with mischief. Steve's mother keeps assuring him that puberty is going to hit eventually, and when it does, he'll catch up, but even when he does, what's he going to do? He can't tell Bucky he's a dragon, and if he can't do that, then it seems really unfair to tell him about his feelings. All he can do is keep being Bucky's best friend while Bucky is handsome and charming and everyone else loves him too.Anyway, the lines of how he should treat a best friend, or the person he loves best, or the person he treasures all get blurred. Luckily for him, Bucky puts up with most of it, even seems to accept it as just part of who Steve is, and Steve loves him even more for that. He knows sometimes he doesn't act like most humans would.🐉Five (or more) times that Steve acted like a non-human and one time Bucky did.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Series: food for thot [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1520840
Comments: 74
Kudos: 513
Collections: Sweet and Gentle Steve/Bucky





	what exactly were your thot processes

**Author's Note:**

> This is mostly fluff with a sudden swerve into PWP at the end. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

The thing is, it sucks being fifteen and scrawny and looking like you might blow away in the stiff breeze, and having a best friend who is developing muscles, and whose cheekbones have recently achieved prominence through the round curve of baby fat on his face, and whose blue eyes sparkle when he looks at you, either with laughter or with mischief. Steve's mother keeps assuring him that puberty is going to hit eventually, and when it does, he'll catch up, but even when he does, what's he going to do? He can't tell Bucky he's a dragon, and if he can't do that, then it seems really unfair to tell him about his feelings. All he can do is keep being Bucky's best friend while Bucky is handsome and charming and everyone else loves him too.

But he keeps part of himself just for Steve, and that's part of why Steve loves him so much. They have a language all their own, born of shared experience and inside jokes, references to things the two of them have done or watched or seen, a lexicon of affectionate touches, shoulders squeezes, rough hugs, and banged-up knuckles. He's it for Steve in so many ways, and part of the reason that Steve doesn't really look too hard for other friends, even though his mom tells him he needs to have friends in the supernatural community as well, for all the things he can't share with Bucky. But part of Steve rebels at that, hates the thought of things he can't share with his best friend so much that he doesn't push very hard to try and find anyone else.

Anyway, the lines of how he should treat a best friend, or the person he loves best, or the person he treasures all get blurred. Luckily for him, Bucky puts up with most of it, even seems to accept it as just part of who Steve is, and Steve loves him even more for that. He knows sometimes he doesn't act like most humans would.

Steve and Bucky go out to eat pretty often. Not anywhere fancy, but Sarah takes them both out to eat when Bucky stays over, because Sarah is many things, but not a terribly proficient cook, and Steve wants to learn, but he's fifteen and he's not there yet. He does set out snacks whenever Bucky comes over, makes sure that he's fed, lacking nothing when he's under Steve's care—not that he's under Steve's care. When he's at Steve's house, Steve means to say.

Anyway, when Sarah's not there and Bucky comes over, they have some of the few dishes that Steve can cook. He can make spaghetti and sauce out of the jar, and that's okay, but what he really excels at is making breakfast. Bucky is over to spend the night, and Sarah won't be back for a few days, off on what Steve has told Bucky is a business trip, but is actually a flight to a convocation of dragons who need one of their cohort healed.

Steve is going all out, frying up bacon in the big cast iron skillet, French toast made and warming in the oven, eggs set to scramble in the bacon grease as soon as the bacon's done. Bucky cuts up fruit, making stupid jokes about the melon baller, which are objectively terrible and yet Steve can't help but find them adorable.

Once everything is finished, they eat at the kitchen table, drinking juice out of Sarah's nice wine glasses because they can. Steve doesn't even notice the way he keeps sliding more French toast onto Bucky's plate, refilling his glass. It's not until he's giving Bucky the last slice of bacon that Bucky says, "Geez, Steve, I'm going to explode." He laughs, and so Steve laughs too, but he knows this is not normal teenage boy behavior—at least not normal human boy.

Steve hopes his laugh doesn't sound too forced. "Sorry. Didn't mean to be pushy."

"It's okay, Steve. I know by now how you are." Steve feels poised between joy and agony somehow, because Bucky knows _how_ he is but not _why_ he is, and he wants more than anything to tell him.

That night, Steve sleeps on the top bunk, listening to the soothing sound of Bucky's breathing on the bottom, and wonders when exactly he'll cross that line and do something that Bucky won't be able to accept as just how Steve is. When will he do the thing that finally scuttles their friendship? When will he cross some boundary that he isn't even aware he should have? Bucky is so patient with him, so accepting of all his idiosyncrasies, but at some point, Steve just knows he's going to put a claw over a line he doesn't even know is there. The thought of his life without a Bucky in it speeds his heartbeat and makes his breath come short. He's not the healthiest hatchling—he hatched too early, and Sarah had to help break the eggshell for him. He had liquid in his lungs, and it's made his breathing touch and go throughout his childhood. It's another thing his ma says will clear up when he goes through puberty, but that doesn't do him any good now.

His breaths comes in short gasps, and he can't seem to draw enough air in. How will he ever breathe fire if he can't get oxygen in his lungs?

He's panicking, and that's not helping his breathing situation, so he starts fumbling for the inhaler on his bedside table, or what passes for a bedside table anyway—the top of the tall dresser next to his bunk bed. It's not actually medicine, or at least not that any human doctor would recognize, but the charm his mother made for him to help his lungs, shaped to look like any old inhaler. Regardless, his hand scrabbles at the top of the dresser, his panic at not finding it only making the situation worse.

But then a warm hand is pressing the plastic inhaler into his palm, and Bucky jumps up the bunk bed ladder. As Steve gets the inhaler to his mouth and depresses the button that activates the magic, warm arms press him to Bucky's chest, and Bucky breathes with him, slow and steady, his hand rubbing Steve's back between his shoulder blades. It's an awful lot of warm, smooth skin that Steve is pressed against, and he's certain that as soon as his body believes that death is no longer imminent and he can breathe again, his mental monologue will become nothing but a series of exclamation points. 

Steve's breathing slows to match Bucky's as the charm takes effect, opening up the constricted airways in his lungs. He becomes aware that Bucky is murmuring in his ear, a constant stream of "You're okay, Steve, you're all right. You're going to be fine, you've got this, I've got you," and more soothing platitudes along those lines. Some of the supernatural creatures that Steve has met complain about how annoying the human penchant for meaningless talk is, but Steve has always appreciated it, and never more than right now. None of it's necessarily true, or necessarily means that much, except that what it really means is that Bucky is here with him, and he cares about what happens to Steve, and he wants him to be okay, and that—that's a lot.

Steve turns his head into Bucky's chest as his breathing slows and he gets actual air into his lungs, and Bucky's hand slips up Steve's spine, his fingers tangling in his hair.

"You okay?" Bucky's hand is still stroking lightly along Steve's skull. Bucky's heart is steady beneath Steve's cheek, and if it's a little faster than usual, Steve's pretty sure it's just because he scared him. Still, Steve can't remember feeling this good, this safe in ages.

"I am now," Steve says, voice hoarse. 

Bucky's arms tighten around Steve. His fingertips dig a little deeper into Steve's hair. "I'm just glad you're all right."

They don't say anything else. They used to sleep together all the time when they were kids, curled around each other on couch cushions or tangled together on the same small bed, but bodies only seem to get more complicated as they age, and they really don't do that anymore. Steve lets himself burrow a little deeper into Bucky's embrace, breathing in the smell of him: warm skin, a faint hint of sweat, the smell of his body wash and shampoo. Steve doesn't say anything about Bucky going back to the bottom bunk, and Bucky doesn't either. The two of them fall asleep breathing synchronized breaths.

When Steve wakes up in the morning, he's plastered to Bucky, arms wrapped around him, calves entwined. Steve starts to extricate himself, but Bucky wakes up as he's pulling away, and his sleepy eyes crinkle up in a huge smile. At that moment, Steve knows he's completely fucked, and he wouldn't have it any other way.

🐉

Steve and Sarah do not present a well-off façade to the human world. On paper, Sarah is a nurse; and in fact, she does work part-time as a human nurse. Her office keeps trying to get her to come on full-time, and she always demurs, citing the need to spend time with her son. But her patients seem to have a much higher rate of recovery, because Sarah is whispering charms to them. Healing is a very rare gift among dragons, but Sarah has it. She tells Steve it's why she's not worried about him. They have to be careful while he's young, but she can feel that his various ailments won't be permanent.

She makes herself available to other dragons, of course, and other members of the supernatural community in New York, and elsewhere—she'll travel if she's needed. If someone can't pay for her help, she'll help them without it, but usually she expects something in exchange for what she does. Not because she and Steve need the wealth—her hoard is extensive and the reality is that neither of them need ever work if they don't want to. However, dragons don't like to leave an obligation hanging; it frees both parties if there's not a debt unfulfilled. So she turns healing wounds and curing sicknesses into a transaction, so that the person she's healed won't feel obligated to her. It's the dragon way. (But don't ask her about the American healthcare system; she can complain about that for hours. She would never ask a repayment that ruined the person she had helped, and she would never entrust that payment to a middleman with no investment in either her or her patient.)

So when Sarah tells Steve that he won't be like this forever, he believes her. But in the meantime, he does kind of feel a little bit like a goblin pining after a young prince from the sidelines of a lot of things, because Bucky is some sort of golden boy and most things that he tries, he excels at, be they sports or the creative writing class that Ms. Jiminez gives him an A+ in, or even drawing; Bucky claims that he's not as good as Steve, but Steve's not an idiot. Bucky's very good at it, it just doesn't tug at his soul the way it does at Steve's, so he doesn't put in the hours. It's easy to practice a lot when you like to do something; when you don't really care that much, practicing enough to get good at something is a chore, even if you have a natural aptitude.

But Bucky would much rather strum at his guitar, plucking out chords and singing along in a pleasant baritone voice. Steve doesn't mind; he likes to sit and watch Bucky play, sketching out the slope of his shoulder, the straight line of his nose, the shadow under his chin. If what he'd really like to do is curl around Bucky and feel the movements of his arms, he keeps it to himself. You don't have to be human to realize that that would be counterproductive for learning music. 

Sarah comes home one night and finds them like this, Bucky strumming a song at maybe three-quarters tempo, and Steve drawing him. Maybe there's something in Steve's face, something hungry in his eyes, because once Bucky's gone home, she sits Steve down and makes them both a cup of tea. She puts them at their kitchen table in their usual places. The walls are painted a bright yellow, and there are paintings and drawings Steve's made over the years put up in pride of place on the walls next to menus from restaurants Sarah loves and Playbills from shows she's attended. All of it's familiar and pleasant, but Steve shifts restlessly in his chair, not sure what she's got in mind, until she says, quietly and compassionately but very firmly, "You can't keep him, Steve."

"I don't—what?" Steve knows that he's staring like an idiot, knows that his mouth is hanging open, knows, most of all, that he is a bright, tomato red, because all he can think is _How obvious am I?_ If his mother can take one look at the fondness on his face and see it, then does Bucky see it too? Is he just being kind by not mentioning it and hoping that Steve will get over it or something? The thought makes him feel a little ill.

"A person can't be a treasure," Sarah Rogers tells him. "You can't keep a person like a thing. And you can't give so much of your heart to a human."

"I don't—I'm not trying to hoard him," Steve says indignantly. "He's my best friend, and I love him."

"Oh, Steve," Sarah Rogers says. She sounds…wistful. Sad, maybe. "I know it's hard, living with humans the way we do. Sometimes I wonder if it would have been better for you if I stayed at one of the aeries until you were older."

Steve makes a face. They've visited the dragon communities in the past, and they're fine, but they're so isolated. They have to be; humans are everywhere and dragons want to keep their existence a legend. But Steve's a city boy at heart, and he loves being surrounded by the tide of humanity where they are, loves that there's a supernatural community where he can rub shoulders with firebirds and witches and pixies, not just other dragons. "I'm not sorry about where we live."

"And neither am I, most of the time." She smiles at him and takes a sip of her tea. "I came here decades ago, because the need was so great, and I could help so many people. But I confess, I didn't think about this part of it, about what it would mean for you, growing up around so many humans."

"What does it mean?" Steve can feel his jaw squaring up, his chin sticking out the way it does when he feels like he needs to take on the world—which is most of the time. "They're people too. You help them. And there's nothing wrong with Bucky."

"Of course there's not," she says. "I love him too. But Steve—you need to realize that you're not the same. You're both young now, but he'll keep aging while you have centuries of youth ahead of you. If your heart is tied up with him, part of you will die when he does."

Steve's spine turns into an iron bar at the thought of it, drawing him up to as full a height as he can reach sitting down like this. "But he's worth it. He's worth anything."

Sarah's quiet for a moment, her long fingers wrapped around her mug, watching Steve through narrowed eyes. "I know it seems that way now. And Steve—you have to make your own decisions. I can't make you guard yourself. But I wish that you would."

"I'll think about it," he says, and knows that she's not fooled for a second. He _will_ think about it—he just already knows what he's going to decide at the end of those thoughts.

"Hmmm," Sarah Rogers says.

🐉

Steve is sixteen when he gets an itching under his skin.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Bucky says when Steve can't seem to settle for the third day in a row. They're supposed to be doing homework together at Steve's scratched kitchen table, but Steve is restless, leg jiggling, clicking his pen—he's sure Bucky's on the edge of strangling him, or at least sitting on him to keep him still.

"I'm fine," Steve says.

He is not fine.

Steve is going with his mother to one of the aeries for the summer. The whole summer! Three Bucky-less months, therefore three wasted months. Sure he has to go because "his wings are coming in" and he needs to "work on his flying" and he can't do that in New York without being spotted, most likely, even if, as he pointed out to his mother, he flew entirely at night. No, he's got to go to the aerie and work on his flying with other dragons. It's not that he didn't already have wings, of course, but they weren't yet ready for flight, and now they've grown so much so quickly that he's had growth pains even in his human form, and he's full of this restless energy that has no outlet.

Except flight, apparently. So he and his mother are going to the far north of Canada, where he can stretch his wings and meet other dragons his own age or something. In a perfect world, he could bring Bucky with him. In a perfect world, as long as he's daydreaming, Bucky could stay in his den and watch Steve fly, maybe even go with him on some of those flights.

But here and now, Bucky reaches out and puts a hand on top of Steve's to still his tapping of the pen, and his eyes are full of concern, and Steve can't tell him anything. 

"It's going to be fine, whatever it is," Bucky says, but he doesn't know. Steve forces a smile and tries to make himself chill out before he leaves, with moderate success.

That summer sucks.

 _Fine,_ if he’s being honest, in a lot of ways, it's pretty great. Steve's never spent this much time in his natural form, and he's never spent this much time around other dragons his own age. It's not a big community—there aren't a lot of dragons, relative to the number of humans—but it's in the mountains in the middle of the wilderness where no—or at least very few—people come, and Steve can fly as much as he likes.

And he very much likes. There's a freedom in flight unlike anything else he's ever felt, and he takes to the sky like he was born for it, which he was. The days are long and full of sun and it's almost perfect.

Of course it would be better if Bucky were there, and Steve can't really help talking about him when he's on his mind and heart so much. And there's not exactly cell reception in the aerie, but as Steve gets stronger and more confident in flight, he flies further and further, and maybe he takes his cell phone with him just to check if there are bars so he can text Bucky.

"What are you doing?" Gil, one of the other young dragons, a red one, asked him when he sees him shift back into human shape to tap out a message on his phone.

"I'm texting Bucky," Steve says. "He's my best friend."

"I didn't know there was a dragon named Bucky in New York," Gil says, frowning.

"There's not." New York is big, but dragons are territorial. Sarah and Steve are the only ones in Brooklyn, and while Steve knows there's another dragon in Long Island, they've never met—Sarah believes that the key to having neighborly relations with their territories so close is to keep a friendly but polite distance and never encroach.

"Bucky's human." Steve shifts back into his dragon shape, but not fast enough to miss Gil's lips curled back in a sneer that shows his teeth. "You got a problem with that?"

Gil snorts and stretches his wings wide. "If you want to waste your time, that's up to you. I just question your judgement."

Steve can't help mantling at that; he doesn't care what Gil thinks of his judgement, but that's Bucky's he's calling a waste of time. Gil sneers even more when he catches the movement, and Steve's not sure exactly how it starts, but suddenly they're fighting. Gil is much bigger than Steve, whose dragon form is no bigger—proportionally anyway—than his human form.

Gil snaps out his crimson wings and rears up to get the height advantage on Steve. He bites at the point where Steve's wings meet his shoulders, not hard enough to seriously injure him, but it _hurts,_ right there where Steve's scales give way to the leathery skin of his wings.

Steve rolls out of the grip and bites back, under Gil's chin, and then Gil rushes him, knocking him to the ground. Steve twists to get his back legs with their sharp claws into play, but Gil evades his attack with insulting ease.

Steve has spirit, anger, and a finely honed sense of injustice on his side; unfortunately what he doesn't have is the strength or reach of the older, bigger dragon. Far faster than Steve would like, Gil has him pinned. Gil's long, snaky neck whips around and he bites Steve hard on the chest, at the juncture where his foreleg meets his shoulder. It's painful, but more, it's humiliating, as it's meant to be. Gil snorts again dismissively, spreads his wings and takes off.

Sarah is disappointed in Steve for fighting—although she's not surprised; he's been fighting in his human form since he was a hatchling. But she'd hoped he wouldn't fight other dragons the way he does humans, although she should've known better really. She doesn't even say anything when he tells her why he was fighting, just shakes her head, worry pinching a line on her scaly brow.

Worse, though, is that most of the other dragons take Gil's side of things. Steve's perspective on humans is unusual, to say the least, and for every one of his peers that comes to ask him what's it like growing up among the humans, what's it like having them for friends, there are three others who just think it's not worth the trouble of asking, or the trouble of getting to know Steve, for that matter. The older dragons are more accepting, whether because they've known humans themselves, or because they value Sarah as a healer, but the older dragons aren't the ones he's spending most of his time with.

By the time the summer is over, Steve's more than ready to get back to the city. There are things he loves about the aerie, but just as many that feel constrictive, like a too-tight shirt.

There's more room in his chest for breath, it feels like, when he gets back to New York, and even more when he first sees Bucky. Bucky is over at their apartment before they've been back more than an hour, and Steve can't help the grin he feels stretching his cheeks when he hears Bucky's familiar knock at the door, the same dumb knock he's been using since they were six and his mother Winifred had to escort him to their door. At the time, the Barneses and the Rogers were both living in the same building, but Bucky's family had moved to a bigger apartment five years ago. It was farther away, but not much; close enough to walk to after school, easily.

Steve opens the door, and he swears Bucky has gotten bigger, both height wise and through the shoulders, in the three months since he last saw him. Bucky's on him in an instant, and both of them are wrapping their arms around each other, Steve tucking his nose against Bucky's neck, swamped by the familiarity of his smell.

"You got taller in Canada," Bucky exclaims.

"You got taller in Brooklyn," Steve says. Taller and more handsome, so much so that Steve can hardly stand it.

Whatever reservations Sarah has about their friendship, she smiles to see their reunion. "Want to stay for dinner, Bucky?" she asks, and of course Bucky does. They talk throughout the meal, catching each other up on their summers, although of course Steve has to do a lot of lying about his, and then Bucky ends up staying the night.

They don't talk about it, but although Steve starts out on the top bunk, the lights haven't been out more than fifteen minutes before he's climbing down to wiggle under the covers next to Bucky. They're getting too old for this—they've _gotten_ too old for this—and Steve knows it, but he missed him so much, and even in the dark, Bucky shines to his vision, something precious. 

Bucky slides over to make room for him and lets Steve wrap himself around him like some kind of aggressive koala. He turns to the wall and pulls Steve's arm over his waist. It's how they usually sleep, when they sleep in the same bed. Steve's always run hot compared to Bucky—he's a dragon, after all—and Bucky never minds Steve being his heated blanket. Maybe he even likes it. 

Steve likes it far, far too much, but then, he always has. 

🐉

School starts, and Steve's glad to be back into the swing of things, he supposes.

He gets back into his school year routine. They don't have all their classes together this year, but Steve has English, history, and study hall with Bucky, so he's happy. Tuesdays and Thursdays, Bucky has guitar after school, and some days he has sports, but most of the time, they walk to one of their apartments after school and hang out together. It's really just about as perfect as set up as a young dragon pretending to be a human could want, or at least it is until November.

Bucky may not be the star player on the soccer team, but he's very good, and he's certainly the only reason that Steve goes to the games. Steve is a faithful attendee, and has by virtue of watching Bucky play over the last several years picked up the rules almost against his will. Certainly without consciously trying, anyway. Sarah has been to a couple of games with Steve, but privately expressed the opinion that there wasn't enough blood to keep the games interesting. Steve had told her that this was a peculiar position for a healer to take, and she had just smiled toothily at him and said that healer or not, she was a dragon above all.

Anyway, Steve knows enough by now to be yelling that the ref must be ignoring the offsides rule when it happens. Bucky and some guy on the other team are both trying to get to the ball first, and they slide tackle right into each other. There's a loud, sickening crunch, and then the other guy stands up, and Bucky… Bucky doesn't.

He lies there for a long moment, not moving at all, while Steve's short life flashes in front of his eyes. Then he curls over onto his side and pulls his leg toward his chest. Even from the sidelines, Steve can tell he's in enormous pain.

The coaches and the ref jog over to take a look at him. Steve is practically vibrating out of his skin, and for the first time that he remembers he feels the urge to transform surging up beneath his skin when he didn't call on it. He bites his lip hard to get a lock on it; he hasn't actually accidentally changed shape since he was a toddler.

"You all right, man?" Sam Wilson, sitting next to him, puts a hand on his shoulder, and that helps ground him too.

"I've got to do something," Steve says.

"Not sure what you can do with that the coaches can't," Sam says, reasonably, but Steve is in no mood to be reasonable.

"His folks are out of town, and my mom's his emergency contact." Steve takes a breath and stands up. "But she's at work, and he's going to need somebody with him."

"I still don't know what it is you think you're going to do," Sam begins. But his hand slips down Steve's arm as Steve stands, and they both jump back a little bit because there's a spark that's a bit like static electricity when their skin touches, but it's not static. It's magic. Their eyes meet, and Steve doesn't know what exactly Sam is, but he can see recognition in his gaze: they've both clocked each other as something other than human.

"I've got to get to him," Steve says softly. "He's mine." He doesn't know Sam that well—they've had a few classes together, but Sam keeps to himself, and Steve guesses he knows why now; anyway, Steve's always been so deeply involved with Bucky that he's never put much effort into making other friends—but he's guessing that Sam will understand his urgency a little better than most people would.

Sam nods, and just says, "Maybe we'll talk later, all right?"

"You got it," Steve says and starts pushing his way down to the field. He is going to spend more time with Sam, though, he decides. The non-humans in the student body ought to stick together.

Dragons are supposed to be silver tongued, but Steve's never experienced it in his life until he gets on the field. He doesn't even remember, later, what arguments he makes to the coaches, and then the EMTs, but he feels his power sliding up his throat, feels words leave him with the same force that propels him through the air when he flies, and by the end of it all, he's sitting in the ambulance next to Bucky. Bucky, who clutches at his fingers like they're a lifeline, teeth gritted, skin pale, face contorted into a grimace of pain.

When they get to the hospital, Bucky is whisked away in a flurry of doctors and nurses and Steve feels bereft and angry, and the human part of him knows that of course he can't go back with the doctors—they're taking Bucky to get an x-ray, and depending on if a bone is broken and how, he might need surgery, and it's not like Steve can scrub up and observe, because he'd just be in the way, but the rest of him is absolutely howling to be with Bucky, distraught that he can't be with him.

He does the only thing he can—he pulls out his phone and calls his mother. He barely gets as far as "Bucky's hurt," before Sarah is on her way. She's there twenty minutes later, and, in what Steve assumes is her own use of magic, talks her way onto Bucky's team somehow, even though this is not her hospital. Steve still has to sit in the waiting room, of course, brewing on his worry until he feels like a thundercloud, ready to burst with lightning.

Sarah comes out not quite an hour later, a sly smile playing about her mouth. "They were afraid it might be a break," she says, "and a bad one. But it turns out it's just a terrible sprain, and they won't need to take him into surgery."

Steve sags back onto the uncomfortable plastic chair, relief flooding him. He knows she did something. It probably _was_ a bad break, until she got there. It probably would have meant surgery, but now Bucky will just have to miss the rest of the soccer season.

"Thank you," Steve whispers.

"Steve," she says quietly. "Of course." They lean into each other for a moment, letting each other rest.

"I know there's payment owed," Steve whispers. "I assume the debt."

She makes a low rumble of approval, inaudible to any ears but their own. "I knew you would," she murmurs, and he knows that it won't be much of a cost at all.

🐉

There's no question of Bucky going back to his own home, of course; Sarah calls George and Winifred, and assures them that Bucky can stay with the Rogerses. Steve is fervently relieved, because as awful as it is to have Bucky injured, it would be so much worse to have him injured and _somewhere else._

"You don't need to fuss this much, it's not that bad," Bucky says on day two. Perhaps Steve has been a little bit over the top, not letting him walk to the fridge for a snack, or to get a book, or the remote. Why should he, when Steve has two perfectly uninjured legs of his own?

"For God's sake, I can get to the bathroom on my own," Bucky says. Steve supposes that's true, but the crutches hurt Bucky's armpits, anyone can see that and there's no reason he shouldn't lean on Steve. Steve tries to rein himself in, though, because he doesn't want Bucky to get so sick of him that he pushes him away, because then where would either of them be? He tries to give Bucky some space, and he mostly does, until Thursday, after they've been back at school all week, and Steve has forced himself not to carry Bucky's every book for him, and Bucky has at least accepted some help—until an unfortunate tenth grader accidentally trips over Bucky's boot. Bucky's face goes pale as milk, and Steve goes absolutely feral.

He doesn't mean to, and the rational part of his mind knows that it was an accident, but the rest of him, alas, is not so rational, and that part is only focused on Bucky's pain. Steve whirls around on the younger kid, and whatever's in his face makes him blanch nearly as pale as Bucky. Steve knows he's not intimidating in his human shape, usually, but the kid looks terrified that Steve's about to administer a beat down or something. And the fact of the matter is, Steve's not entirely certain what he's going to do. Rage seems to have unlocked his power, at least a little bit, and he tastes smoke in the back of his throat. Power is building up inside his chest, longing to be released, building and building, until—

"Get it under control," Sam Wilson mutters in his year, and claps a heavy hand on his shoulder. Steve nods curtly, and the kid takes the opportunity to scamper off.

Steve shoots Sam a grateful look—and he will have to think of a way to properly thank him later—and then turns to Bucky. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Bucky says through gritted teeth. "It was an accident—he didn't mean to."

"I know," Steve says, a little guiltily. He doesn't think Bucky saw him almost completely lose his shift, but he knows it happened, and he'll have to carry around how close he got to doing something bad to someone who meant no harm.

It settles something in his chest to hear Bucky's voice, though, just to have the confirmation that he's all right.

🐉

Sam becomes a good friend. He's one of the bird shapeshifters, a falcon, and it's an unexpected delight to have someone Steve can fly with sometimes. They have to be careful, but then they always have to be careful.

Steve searches through his hoard to find something appropriate to give him as thanks, and finds among the things his mother gave him as part of his starter hoard an Egyptian torc embossed in gold with the seal of Horus, the falcon god. It's a good present, worthy of so great a gift as keeping Steve from completely losing his cool and outing himself as a supernatural creature.

"Steve, this is too much," Sam hisses when Steve gives it to him. This does not come as much of a surprise to Steve. He's used to hearing that from Bucky, and he's learned over the years to tone it down and select something only maybe half or one third as much as Bucky deserves from him when selecting gifts. He is supposed to be poor, after all.

But Sam isn't human, and Steve can explain it to him. They're at a Starbucks on a Saturday, not any of either of their usual haunts, where they're not likely to run into anyone they know, and can talk about supernatural things in peace.

"It's perfectly appropriate," Steve explains. "You did me an enormous favor, so I'm giving you a nice gift."

"It wasn't that big a favor," Sam says. He closes the velvet box on the necklace, but Steve sees him give it a mildly covetous glance. "I'd have done it for anybody."

"Just because you would've done it for anybody doesn't mean it wasn't precious to me," Steve says he pushes the box gently towards Sam again. "This is how dragons say thank you."

Sam struggles with himself a moment longer, but then he gives in. "Well in that case, thank you back," Sam says.

It's nice to have another friend.

At least, in Steve's opinion. Bucky's not too fond of Sam, not at first, for no discernible reason that Steve can see. They're both great, and he likes them both, so he doesn't understand why they don't like each other. But as great as Sam is, Bucky takes a while to warm up to him, muttering darkly when Steve says he's going to spend time with him, giving him sidelong glares that no one could possibly think are subtle.

Steve doesn't understand it—Bucky himself has plenty of other friends besides Steve, and Steve knows that none of them are the kind of friends to him that Steve is. Everybody loves Bucky, as is only right and proper; he is eminently lovable. But no one else loves him the way Steve does.

"He's afraid you're going to like Sam better than him," Sarah opines when Steve complains about the entire situation to her.

"That's completely ridiculous," Steve says.

"You know that," Sarah says, "but he's afraid he's going to lose you."

Bucky could no more lose Steve then he could lose his own heart, but Steve supposes that Bucky can't be certain how Steve feels. So he makes it a project to spend more time with him, to make sure he knows that he comes first, makes sure that as much as he wants his two friends spend time together and get to know each other, he also spends plenty of time with just Bucky. And it works; after a few months, Bucky starts to fall, and before too long, they're solid frenemies even if they'll never be best friends.

🐉

Their senior year of high school seems to fly by all too quickly. Steve doesn't have to go to college, Sarah tells him, but he can if he wants to, just as he can get a job if the thought amuses him. Sarah certainly approves of having work to help keep the claws busy and pass the time, but Steve doesn't have a calling the way that she does. He's not a healer and he's not sure what he wants to spend the rest of his long life doing. But he does like learning, and most of all, he likes being with Bucky, so when Bucky applies to NYU, Steve does too.

They're not roommates that first year, and that's an experience that Steve finds he could do without. But their second year, they get a dorm room together and that—that's perfect.

Steve has loved having sleepovers with Bucky forever, and this is like a sleepover that just keeps going. There are a few bumps along the way as they learn how to live with each other and not irritate each other over dumb things, but honestly the whole thing goes really smoothly. They've known each other long enough that there really aren't too many irritants between the two of them. The experiment is so successful that they do it again their junior year.

Their junior year is also the year that Steve's dragon puberty really hits. He's been through human puberty, of course; when his voice changed, that was apparently hilarious for everyone since he remained relatively small but his voice got very deep. He'd had the usual exciting growth of hair and uncontrollable boners that everyone else did, but this is different. He's ravenous all the time and all of the growing that he didn't do as a teenager he's suddenly doing now. He shoots up, and then he fills out. Sometimes it feels like he grows an inch every night. He packs on muscle as well, almost without trying. He's been going to the gym with Bucky for years, but suddenly he actually looks like it.

Bucky teases him about how much he eats and sleeps, and about how big he's getting. The day comes when he realizes that he's actually a little taller than Bucky. It's weird for both of them.

He's also, it has to be said, desperately horny all the time. While Bucky is off having dates with people, Steve is off having dates with his own right hand. There's not really anyone else he wants to date besides Bucky, and since Bucky has shown no signs yet of being attracted to Steve, jerking off it is. Sometimes Steve wishes that his libido would just shut up for five minutes at a time, but it doesn't seem to slow down at all. He hopes that when this period of rapid growth is done, he'll return to his usual levels of thinking about his dick.

They both graduate college with honors, and Steve gets a job as a graphic designer, while Bucky gets an entry-level position at a non-profit that is kind of boring but might lead to better things. It only makes sense for them to move in together, Bucky says, since they already know they're perfect as roommates. Since this is exactly what Steve wants more than anything else in the world, he's happy to agree.

Sarah gets invited to come to Ireland for a few decades to collaborate with other magical healers of several species. "It's been too long since I visited home," she says happily, "and you could use some time on your own."

She gives Steve more treasure than he thinks is reasonable, but it's a traditional gift from a parent to a child in the dragon world, so he thanks her and wishes her well in Ireland. At least it's not like the old days, or the more isolated dragons that live in aeries; they both have cell phones, and Steve promises to visit her there.

In the meantime, he and Bucky fall into a routine of living together.

Steve is sadly aware that Bucky hardly noticed when Steve's dragon puberty hit, except to tease him. He noticed, but he didn’t _notice_ notice.

It had gotten Steve a lot of attention, the swell of his muscles, the sudden length of his legs, but he'd only ever really wanted one person. He's dated, he guesses, but it never came to much, really. Steve always felt like a heel for keeping two secrets—the dragon one, which was big, and the in love with Bucky Barnes one, which depending on who you asked might be bigger; it felt bigger to Steve. Maybe, like Steve's suddenly-jacked-up body, it's just something Bucky hasn't noticed, which is—

—it's good. It is. If it's also a pain Steve curls around, like a toothache, or a gut punch, well, that's not Bucky's problem. 

🐉

There's the one time that Bucky kisses him. They have a day together--a really nice day together. There's some dumb movie that they both want to see, and then on a whim, they swing by the Brooklyn Museum, because there's an exhibit of illustrators that Steve wants to check out, and then they go to a bar. It turns out they should have gotten dinner first, because Bucky's drinks hit him hard, and he goes from buzzed to sloppy a lot faster than he means to or could possibly have wanted. Steve gets the check, and the two of them walk home, Bucky leaning against Steve and running his hand up and down his side. It's awfully distracting. 

The walk doesn't seem to do much to sober Bucky up, because once they're inside the apartment, he tosses his jacket to the side--unusual for Bucky; he usually takes good care of his clothes--and shoves Steve up against the wall. Steve's too surprised to push back, and anyway he doesn't want to push back--he doesn't want to hurt Bucky.

Bucky presses into Steve, the long line of his body warm and so solid against him. He winds his fingers through Steve's hair and tilts his head up to kiss him. His lips are soft against Steve’s, and he tastes like rum and coke, and for one beautiful second that will haunt Steve's dreams, it's everything that Steve has ever wanted. He can feel his heartbeat, a happy staccato pulse in his veins.

Bucky pushes closer, almost stumbling over himself in his haste to get more of him touching more of Steve, and that's what brings Steve back to the unfortunate reality of what's happening.

Bucky is drunk. Bucky's never tried to kiss Steve when he was sober, and if he were sober now, this wouldn't be happening. Steve wraps his hand around Bucky's biceps and pushes back gently, turning his head a little when Bucky tries to kiss him again. Bucky ends up nuzzling his neck, and it's sweet but also--

"No, Buck," Steve whispers. "You've had too much to drink."

Bucky bites his lip and looks up at Steve through his lashes, and Steve is pretty sure that he deserves a medal for not letting on how much he wants to kiss him right now. "Please?" Bucky says. "I want to." But Steve's listening, and Bucky's not exactly slurring, but there's a wobble in his voice.

"If you still want to tomorrow," Steve tells him, "then we can." He'll have to figure out some way to tell Bucky what he is, if he does--he can’t let Bucky kiss him under false pretenses. Well, he can’t let Bucky kiss him  _ again  _ under false pretenses.

Bucky pouts, but he steps away, and seems to assess his condition. "M'gonna go to sleep," he says.

"Drink some water first," Steve says. Bucky takes the glass that Steve pours for him and gulps it down, his throat working, then goes to his room and falls down on the bed, not even taking his clothes off. Steve sighs and pulls his shoes off his feet, then turns the light out as he leaves.

The next day, Bucky is hungover and grumpy. Steve makes him breakfast while he tries to absorb a second shot at life out of his coffee cup.

"It's not fair," Bucky says. "You drank as much as I did, why are you so cheerful?"

"Just lucky, I guess," Steve says like the liar he is. It would take a lake of booze to get him drunk, in either form. 

They eat eggs and bacon and toast, and Bucky seems to be feeling better. Better enough to help Steve with the dishes. Everything seems to be fine between them, and maybe Steve shouldn't rock the boat, but--

"About last night," Steve begins.

"Don't worry about it," Bucky says easily. The fragile little hope that Steve hadn't managed to keep from feeling deflates.

"We should talk about it," Steve says. No one ever said he wasn't stubborn.

"It's fine," Bucky says, more firmly this time. "We don't need to talk about it. It doesn't have to mean anything."

"Oh," Steve says, and the last bit of hope completely withers away. It's a good thing he stopped it after all. 

It's awkward for a couple of days, mostly because Steve is a little hurt and trying not to be, and Bucky is trying so hard for nonchalant and normal that he's like a parody of himself, but they get back on an even keel eventually, and Steve's glad they're still okay. 

Months pass, and they truly do return to their baseline friendship, and most of the time, Steve doesn't even torment himself with the thought of what might have happened if he hadn't stopped the kiss--if Bucky had been a little less drunk.

🐉

The problem is that Steve can't help thinking of Bucky as his treasure, and he knows it's not something he _should_ do, but unfortunately it's something that he _does_ , and these days, if he's not actively thinking about it, he'll absent-mindedly curl himself around Bucky, or put his hands on him. They've always been prone to hugs and physical contact, and Bucky just seems to be rolling with it, thankfully, but it's embarrassing.

Take tonight. Thursdays were movie nights if neither of them had anything else going on. Steve and Bucky kept a list of movies they wanted to watch stuck to their refrigerator with a magnet that said Instant Human: Just Add Coffee which always made Steve laugh because it was wrong. Last week they'd finally crossed the last interminable hobbit movie off the list, which was good, because Steve had had a difficult time not shouting about how bad the portrayal of the dragon had been.

Smaug had been _embarrassing_ , is what it had been. All that sniffing and nearly catching Bilbo, ugh. Not that Steve would ever eat a sentient being, but Smaug clearly should have killed and devoured him immediately if that was what he wanted. Invisibility was no match for a draconic nose. Not that dragons just went around killing people! Most dragons lived perfectly peacefully (and completely unnoticed) in their chosen communities. At least Steve had been able to pass on watching _Game of Thrones_. He'd thrown the book across the room at the first egg-stealing scene and he doesn't think Bucky needs to hear him ranting like a weirdo through all eight seasons of the show.

Tonight they're watching a perfectly safe old movie about time-travel and deadly robots with zero draconic content for Steve to get mad about. Steve gets into it pretty quickly despite the synthesizer-heavy soundtrack, and when he scoots closer to Bucky to get some of the popcorn Bucky has in a large silver bowl, he never moves back to the other side of the couch. Then when the popcorn is gone and the bowl is on the table, he ends up pressing himself against Bucky, and when the movie ends, he suddenly realizes that he has his arm over Bucky's shoulder, Bucky's body is warm and pressed against his entire side, and he, Steve, all two-hundred and fifty pounds of him, is practically in Bucky's lap. 

This would have been mortifying enough when Steve was short and barely a hundred pounds, but now that he's big, he could possibly accidentally crush Bucky. Bucky is nearly the same height as Steve, but much slenderer. Steve is muscle-bound and Bucky is more graceful. (The perfect size for picking up and sweeping into a dramatic embrace, Steve's mind helpfully supplies, or putting on Steve's lap, and oh no, he likes that idea far too much.)

"Oh, geez, sorry, Buck," Steve says. He withdraws his arm and hastily puts a little distance between them. He can feel himself blushing in the sting of his cheeks, the heat in his ears, and he hopes Bucky will think he's just embarrassed for accidentally cuddling him, not because he's thinking about how easy it would be to swing him onto his dick.

But Bucky just looks amused. "It's fine. Don't worry about it. It's not like it's news to me that you turn into an octopus when you're not paying attention."

Steve raises both hands to cover his face. He can feel the heat pouring off of his skin. Bucky laughs and pats him on the back, and Steve thinks longingly of the caves of his ancestors and how nice it would be to retreat into one right about now and stay for, oh, the next hundred years or so.

"It's really all right," Bucky says, still laughing at him as he stands and picks up the bowl to take it into the kitchen.

And it is. It's fine. They've known each other forever, and Bucky thinks it's funny, not a sign of either possible dragon-ness or Steve's increasing thirst for his roommate.

It's fine.

🐉

And so it goes, the accidental touching, Steve more-or-less keeping his own dumb feelings to himself, until Bucky doesn't come home for a couple of days, and when he does, he's a vampire.

And then the truth comes out about both of them, and Bucky drinks Steve's blood, which is not something Steve ever thought he would find attractive, but then again it's Bucky, so he does.

It doesn't hurt that there's something vampires do when they drink, and Steve doesn't know if it's magic or some kind of venom or what, but it feels like there's a line from his neck right to his dick, and it's amazing. He kind of wants to do it forever, which hopefully will work out well for both of them, not that he'll push. Bucky's had kind of a crazy week.

The next day, the first full day of them dating as well as being roommates, dragon and vampire. Steve wakes up curled around Bucky, arms wrapped around him, Bucky's back pressed into the curve of Steve's chest. He feels like he wants to growl, or purr, but he satisfies himself with pulling Bucky a little tighter to his chest. It's daytime, so of course Bucky doesn't wake up, but he does make a little mumbling noise deep in his throat that lights up a warm, happy place inside Steve's chest. 

Steve bends down and presses a kiss into Bucky's temple, simply because he can. He checks to be sure the blackout curtains are pulled closed and absently thinks that he needs to get curtains for his room as well. He wants both of them to be comfortable sleeping in both bedrooms. Obviously there's a lot they'll need to figure out, but whatever they need to do, he _wants_ to figure it out, because it's Bucky.

Steve tucks the blanket tenderly around Bucky's unmoving form and shuts the door to his room. He makes himself a big breakfast that's actually a late lunch, heavy on leftover steak and spinach salad, because he feels fine but also like maybe he should replenish his iron in case Bucky wants to feed from him again. He wants to be whatever Bucky needs him to be, and he just really doesn't know all that much about vampires. How often will Bucky need to feed from him? How often will Bucky need to feed from other people? Steve has no way of predicting.

He'll be whatever Bucky needs from him, he promises he will. Bucky isn't awake to hear him say it, but he promises himself. He's spent so long telling himself he could never have Bucky—time that Bucky had apparently spent telling himself _he_ could never have _Steve_ —and Steve is determined not to let misunderstandings fuck up their chance.

Bucky's been through a lot, but they both still want each other, and that's enough for Steve. 

He eats, answers a few work emails and tries not to be too much of a jittery mess while he waits for Bucky to wake up. The hard part is done; they actually talked about stuff and were open with each other and everything went so much better that he could possibly have hoped.

Now all he has to do is keep that going forward, keep from fucking up with Bucky.

Nothing to be nervous about at all

When Bucky finally does wake up just before sunset, Steve is about ready to vibrate out of his skin. He hears him moving around in his room first, the slide of the bedclothes, the sound of his feet hitting the floor. Steve smiles, a hard knot easing loose under his breastbone. He starts the kettle, more for the noise than because he wants tea. A few minutes later the door to Bucky's room swings open, and Bucky is framed in the doorway, sleep-rumpled and smiling hesitantly at Steve.

Something about the hesitance tugs at him, the echo of his own uncertainty reflected back at him, and he can't stand the thought of Bucky feeling that, so he crossed the room to wrap him in his arms. Bucky's not a small man, but he is smaller than Steve, and Steve likes that he can sort of fold himself around him; Bucky seems to like it too from the way he collapses against Steve with a muffled yawn and nuzzles against him.

They sway in place for a minute and Steve is more content than he could ever have imagined at how good and right this feels. 

Bucky is chilly against him, but Steve himself is hot, and the thought of sharing his warmth makes Steve feel unreasonably happy, like this is something no one else but him can do; maybe, in some ways, it's true. He presses a kiss to Bucky's temple, and a second later something scrapes his collarbone.

"Ouch," Steve says, more from surprise than actual pain. Bucky stiffens in his arms.

"Fucking fangs," Bucky says. "Sorry." He ducks his head and tries to pull away, but Steve cups his cheek with one hand and leans down to kiss him. Bucky relaxes against him again.

"It's okay," Steve says. "It didn't really hurt."

"But I didn't mean to do it." Bucky looks up and his eyes are wide, and Steve can tell he's actually distressed.

Steve smooths down Bucky's hair, kisses the corner of his mouth. "Are you hungry?"

"Kind of," Bucky admits. "I'm always a little hungry. But mostly I just, um..." He doesn't blush, but Steve thinks it's only because he can't.

"Tell me what you want," Steve says. "Anything I can do for you, I want to." He pulls Bucky a little tighter, just because he can, just because it's allowed now. And it’s a pleasure to feel him fit against Steve’s body, tucked up against him where Steve can keep him safe and warm.

Bucky kisses his collarbone where his teeth scraped it. "I want to touch you." He looks up, and his pupils are wide and dark, and Steve remembers how good it felt the night before, and he lines them up so even more of their bodies are touching; Bucky in his pajamas, Steve in the t-shirt and track pants that he's been wearing all day.

Steve tugs him back toward his own bedroom and Bucky casts a glance back to his own bedroom. "I put up blackout curtains," Steve says quietly. "While you were sleeping. So you're fine falling asleep in either of our rooms."

"Steve," Bucky says, a little helplessly, and Steve just pulls him towards his bed. Bucky lets himself be chivied and once he's stretched out on the bed, Steve wraps himself around him, pressing his body against Bucky's everywhere he can.

Bucky stretches and turns to face Steve. He slides his hands under Steve's shirt and rests them on his sides, and the whole time he's looking at Steve and Steve is looking at him. Maybe it should feel awkward, but it just feels right; for years, Steve has only stolen glances and now he can stare all he likes. He reaches out and touches Bucky's cheekbones, lets his hand trail down to cup Bucky's jaw.

Steve leans forward and kisses him softly on the corner of his mouth, on the dimple in the center of his chin, square on the lips. Bucky melts into his touch and they spend a few minutes just kissing and touching each other, hands wandering over skin. Bucky feels so good, but even more, the reactions he has to Steve's every touch drives Steve wild: every inhaled breath, every flutter of his eyelids, the way he keeps looking at Steve as though to confirm it's really happening. Steve feels it too, the sense that this is fragile because it's new, but at the same time, this is the solidest thing he's ever felt, because it's them.

“I want—” Bucky says, and then he turns his head and buries his face in Steve’s chest.

“Anything,” Steve says, again, and drops a kiss onto Bucky’s soft hair. 

“I want you inside me while I drink from you,” Bucky says in a rush, and fuck, Steve is going to lose his goddamn mind if Bucky’s just going to—say things like that. His mood has gone from tender to down to fuck in half a second flat.

“Yes,” Steve says. “Fuck yes. How do you want me?” 

“Lie down and let me ride you,” Bucky says, and well, who is Steve to say no to that? He pulls off his clothes and tosses them to the floor, not caring a bit about where they land. Bucky pulls his pajamas off, too, a little slower, and Steve watches, not trying in the slightest to hide how hungry he is for Bucky. Bucky bites his lower lip and slowly climbs back on the bed next to Steve. 

Steve sits up and forcibly moves Bucky so Bucky is sitting on his lap. By the way his eyes widen, he doesn't seem to mind at all. Steve strokes his hands down Bucky's thighs, bracketing his own legs, and tilts his head back.

"Go ahead," he murmurs. "I want you to."

Bucky kisses over the scrape on Steve's collarbone almost apologetically, and then gently kisses his way up Steve’s neck, then sinks his fangs in.

It's a bright, sharp moment of pain, followed by a tidal wave of pleasure. Steve goes from interested to achingly hard in a matter of seconds. The pain of Bucky's bite smooths away under the onslaught of desire. Bucky sucks at the wound at Steve's neck, and somehow it pulls even more longing out of him. He runs his hands over Bucky's side and Bucky makes a muffled, encouraging sound.

Bucky is plastered to him, but there's enough room between their bodies that Steve can get a hand in between them. He slides his hand over Bucky's abdomen, tracing the lines of muscle and bone, letting himself feel it in a way he's never allowed himself to before. _Mine,_ he thinks. He can feel Bucky’s skin heating up as the blood flows into him, and he moves his hand so he can wrap his fingers around Bucky’s cock. 

Bucky moans against Steve's throat and sucks hard. Steve likes to think he can feel the blood leaving him, giving sustenance to the man he loves, but he knows he can feel the spike of pleasure that lights up all his veins. Steve's own cock is aching, dying to be touched, but it's a distant need compared to his desire to get Bucky off.

“Wait,” Bucky gasps, pulling off Steve’s neck, and Steve lets go. That’s right—they had a plan. It was just hard to remember as soon as Bucky touched him.. 

Bucky’s face is flushed even though Steve’s positive he hasn’t had enough to drink yet. He reaches across Steve to get the lube out of the bedside table, and Steve takes the opportunity to get a mouth on his chest, licking over his nipples. Bucky gasps, so Steve does it again. 

“Stop,” Bucky says, laughing. “You’re distracting me.”

“It’s hard not to when your tit’s in my face,” Steve says, and then he loses his mind yet again because Bucky gets his own fingers lubed up and starts opening himself up right there, sliding a finger up his ass and tossing his head back. “I could do that,” Steve tells him, because he wants it, wants the feel of Bucky’s body relaxing around him. 

“I can do it faster,” Bucky says, and perhaps to prove it, slides in with two fingers, biting his lip against the stretch. 

“That’s not the point,” Steve says. 

“Next time,” Bucky says. “This time, I just want to be on you as soon as possible.” 

Steve wraps a hand around his cock, not letting himself give in to the desire to move it, to get some friction. He watches, feeling the pulse of lust in all his skin, until Bucky decides he’s ready. He straddles Steve, pushes his hand away from Steve’s dick. The click of the bottle cap seems awfully loud as he pours some into his hand and slicks Steve up. 

Steve isn’t proud of the sound he makes, but he defies anyone to stay quiet at that exquisite friction, and then it gets even better as Bucky lines them up and settles himself on Steve’s cock. The moment that Steve breaches him is a pleasure so intense, he doesn’t have words for it. Bucky moves down in a slow, steady slide. It’s so tight, and when he’s fully seated, he leans forward. Their foreheads rest together for just a moment, Bucky kisses him gently on the lips, and then he bites Steve again. 

A fresh wave of desire hits him like a tidal wave, swamps him with how much he wants Bucky. He can’t resist rocking his hips forward, and Bucky moans against his neck. Steve doesn’t have much of an angle, but he thrusts shallowly, and every movement sends sparks of pleasure throughout his body. Bucky moves too, the two of them finding a rhythm together. It’s good—god, it’s so good. Steve can’t understand how every second of it is better and better. He gets a hand between them to wrap around Bucky’s cock, and Bucky shivers at his touch. Steve strokes him in time with their movements.

Steve can feel the pull at his neck easing, even as Bucky's thrusts get harder and more desperate. Bucky laps at the wound in Steve's neck, the soft pressure of his tongue a contrast to the sharpness of his teeth. Steve moves his hand more urgently, and suddenly Bucky stiffens against him, his cock pulsing in Steve's grasp as he comes.

His muscles contract around Steve’s cock, and Steve thrusts twice before following him over into an orgasm that obliterates all thought for a few seconds, turning him into nothing more than sensation and feeling. He returns to himself, his arms tight around Bucky, whose soft lips are pressed against the already-sealing wound in Steve’s neck. 

He pulls out regretfully, and Bucky carefully gets off of him and then collapses back onto the bed, smiling. Steve finds his discarded t-shirt and wipes his hand off, then retreats to the bathroom for a wet washcloth, which he uses to much more gently get Bucky cleaned up. 

Then he climbs back into bed with him and wraps him in his arms, kissing a line along his neck that mirrors where Bucky bit him. Bucky tilts his head to fit his lips against Steve's, and he tastes of blood. Maybe it shouldn't send such a possessive thrill through Steve that Bucky tastes so thoroughly of him, but it does. Steve can't help the pleased rumble that rises up in his chest, and is surprised and delighted when Bucky growls back at him.

Then Bucky breaks off their kiss and buries his head in Steve's chest again. Steve is charmed that this seems to be Bucky’s new choice of hiding place.

"I can't believe I growled at you," Bucky says, voice muffled.

"Why?" Steve rubs a small circle on Bucky's back, hand flat over his spine.

"Because I didn't really mean to," Bucky says. "It just sort of slipped out."

At this, Steve has to laugh. "Bucky, I've been doing stupid dragon shit around you my whole life."

Bucky's eyes narrow. "Really?"

"Oh God, yes." He presses a kiss to Bucky's temple. "Ma had to take me aside and talk to me about it, which was really embarrassing."

"I need examples," Bucky says, but he sounds like he's smiling, so Steve thinks he must be feeling better about it.

"Well, for starters, there's the way I can't stop touching you if I'm not paying attention, the way I constantly want to feed you, the way I kept bringing you gifts I shouldn't have been able to afford." Steve holds up his hand and ticks off fingers as he talks. "Basically most moments throughout our life where you probably wanted to ask yourself why you have a best friend with no personal boundaries were me trying to shower you with interspecies affection."

Bucky finally looks up, and he _is_ smiling, a soft smile that looks terribly, wonderfully fond. "Maybe I like you with no personal boundaries."

"Maybe I like you growling at me," Steve says.

"Weirdo." Bucky catches Steve's hand and holds it against his chest, right over his heart.

"I don't care if I'm a weirdo as long as I'm your weirdo," Steve whispers into Bucky's ear. 

And it probably says something that Steve sees that Bucky’s eyes are glowing faintly, barely noticeable in the dim light of them room, and it only makes him feel happier. Both of them are different from how they used to be, but somehow they just fit, as long they're together. Bucky burrows into Steve's side, and Steve slings his arm around him, turns his head to kiss Bucky's hair and feels the faint pinch of the bite on his neck, already healing.

"You are, aren't you?" Bucky says. “Mine.” 

“Yeah,” Steve says. “I always have been.” 


End file.
